Eastern Hospitality
by IronyRocks
Summary: Sequel to "Twenty" and "Benediction." Jack/Renee. Day 9 scenario, Renee's point of view. In the city of Chicago, the Solntsevskaya Brotherhood have just acquired a deadly virus, leading Renee and Jack to dive back undercover with old Russian acquaintances
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Eastern Hospitality  
**Fandom:** 24  
**Pairing/Characters:** Renee/Jack; Renee, Jack, Janis Gold (s7 character), OFCs, OMCs - and eventually Chloe and Tony Almeida.  
**Rating/Warnings:** Rated R, for Jack/Renee sexual situations. And non-graphic torture, violence, minor character death, and language - basically, all the normal stuff you'd expect in _24_.  
**Summary:** Day 9 scenario, told from Renee's point of view. In the city of Chicago, the Solntsevskaya Brotherhood have just acquired a deadly virus, leading Renee to dive back undercover with old Russian acquaintances. CTU and the FBI both have an interest, but it's just a matter of time before things get out of control and Jack Bauer gets pulled back into the chaos.  
**Spoilers:** This is the third fic in my "Resurgence Series," therefore it goes AU after 8.07. Also, specific spoilers for all of s7.  
**Disclaimer:** _24_ does not belong to me.  
**Author's note:** Currently halfway done at 11k. Third in my "Resurgence Series," following "Twenty" and "Benediction," so read those first. I've been writing this thing for a while, attempting to do a Season 9 scenario but, holy heck, this has turned out more challenging than I expected. It takes a liberal does of suspended disbelief to write like 24, but eventually I got into the flow and then even mentally cast all the OCs, 'cause I'm a geek like that.

* * *

It begins, like always, with a standard debrief. There's a part of Renee that missed being in the field. The sweat, the heat, the grit – a part of her has always been a bit of an adrenaline junky. But this? This part she certainly doesn't miss. She hates waiting to find out about the latest crisis that's hit - her imagination always runs away with her, and 9 times out of 10, it usually turns out _worse_. She walks through the glass doors of Chicago's HQ, and the first thing waiting for her at the threshold is two armed guards and one familiar face that has no right being here amidst CTU data analysts and field operatives.

"Renee," Janis Gold greets, a tad uneasily, and she's wearing silver trim glasses and a dark blue shirt. "Hey. Long time, no see."

Renee struggles to cover for her shock. "Janis? What are you doing here?"

Janis' eyes dart away before she gives a one-shouldered shrug, like her being here as a tech analyst isn't strange at all. For the next few minutes, any verbal response Renee gets is a half-hearted measure to stall as they walk through the corridors to a more secure location. The hustle and bustle of activity around them indicates something major is going down, but Renee can't wrap her head around Janis' involvement. Did the FBI loan her out? Renee can't see that happening because the FBI and CTU rarely cooperate. Two different methods. Two different ideologies. After a few years of trying, both agencies realized that they couldn't run joint task force operations so they just stopped trying – much like Janis and Renee, actually.

Janis swipes her ID card at the door and enters the Situation Room. "This feels a little unreal," she mutters as she leads the way in, "but I guess it's gonna be just like old times."

Renee somehow doubts that.

* * *

"I hope you understand why you were brought in with such urgency, Agent Walker," Kristen Lynn informs, the new acting Director of CTU. She's slim, Asian, and beautiful – and Renee knows she's a certifiable shark in political waters. "The Dmitri family is up to their old tricks."

The Dmitri family. Christ, there's a name Renee can do without hearing ever again. The Solntsevskaya bratva, or Solntsevskaya brotherhood, was at one time the most powerful organized crime group in the eastern United States. Renee's stretch of undercover work seven years ago helped to disband much of the group's infrastructure, but pockets of strongholds still remained. Luka Dmitri, the once defacto leader of the group, was long behind bars.

His sister, Anya, is another matter.

"She's planning a jailbreak," Janis explains as she pulls up a picture for the big screen. "It's going to be an interesting family reunion."

The picture is grainy, half-out-of-focus, but the old surveillance shot somehow does them justice anyway. While Luka is short with dark hair, Anya is a tall blonde. It's hard to see the family similarities, but Renee knows they've both got more than a few psychological defects in common. Sociopaths, the both of them.

Lynn continues, "The FBI has been monitoring chatter with some lower informants, and earlier today Janis picked up some noise from some of your old acquaintances. We're fairly sure that Anya is about to take out the prison transport van later today that's scheduled to transfer Luka to a super-max prison just outside of Chicago."

"So?" Renee asks with a lifted eyebrow. "If the FBI knows about it, why not stop it? Why am I here? And why is CTU involved?"

"All excellent questions," Janis mutters warily, like she's been asking the same questions for some time now.

Lynn tips a dark look towards Janis because her particular snark takes a bit getting used to, and Lynn doesn't seem the type to appreciate the quality. "Suffice it to say, it's a little more complicated than that."

Of course, it is.

* * *

One hour later, the situation turns out to be really, _really_ complicated.

Renee is in an orange prison jumpsuit, being escorted towards an inmate transport vehicle. Her shackled feet almost sink into the sliding mud. Inside, she settles along one side of the wall, and the guard reaches for her chains and ties them securely to the steel bar near her feet. The guard, the one-in-the-know, glances up and nods once towards Renee with what feels like an apology, but Renee tries to ignore it. She needs to get her head on straight – get properly undercover. Even an acknowledging nod could throw her off her game.

The hidden bud in Renee's ear is clear and practically invisible, and the steady silence on the feed is strangely calming. Back at headquarters, the FBI and CTU are both facilitating one operation under Lynn's command. It spells disaster in numerous ways, but Renee doesn't care much about jurisdictional pissing contests anymore, especially not with this much at stake.

"All right, Renee," Janis says through the earpiece, trying for a calming presence. "Showtime."

A moment later, the back door flies open and Luka Dmitri is escorted in.

* * *

Murder-for-hire, extortions, arson, arms trafficking, narcotics, assassinations, infiltration and corruption of legitimate businesses and a few law enforcement agencies. Luka Dmitri enforced his authority within New York's Russian underworld with methods that made him infamous. It's easy to remember all this while staring into his eyes. They're dead eyes, like doll's eyes.

"Renee Zadan," he greets with a dark accent, stretching his _Rs_ as he says her name. "It has been a long time. Strange that we meet this way. What are you doing here?"

Renee arches a cool eyebrow back, then raises her cuffed hands pointedly. "A vacation. What else?"

A small smirk edges its way out, but Luka's eyes are still far from amused. "Like an old reunion. They say this new prison is nicer than my old neighborhood." He slants a glance aside, scrutinizing Renee curiously. "You look different… a bit harder than I remember."

"I didn't spend the last few years of my life in a charm school, Luka," Renee returns evenly. "Prison isn't fun."

Luka snorts in disdained amusement. Illinois' only "super-max" prison is situated amid rolling hills and farmland on the southern tip of the state. It's designed to house the state's most dangerous inmates – but compared to the Siberian prison camp that Luka had spent six years in, it's practically a spa facility.

Luka leans forward a little, the orange jumper suit riding up his forearm to reveal an old Mafia tattoo of a broken cross. "What happened to you?"

"I was free and clear for the last few years," she says, then grimaces. "Though, apparently, my luck ran out. Got caught six months ago."

Luka gives her a smile, but she can't tell if it's mocking or not. "Luck is for weak, Renee. True soldiers make their own fate."

The expression on his face doesn't give much away, and utter silence descends as he sits back again. Damn, he has a good poker face. If CTU didn't already have confirmation on Luka's plans, it would have been hard to tell that this man was anticipating freedom within the hour instead of three life-sentences, served back-to-back-to-back.

"And before that?" he prompts. "Before you were caught?"

"I was in prison for a time. When I got out, I was… _elsewhere_, like everyone else."

"Not everyone else."

Renee looks to him. "Speaking of, how's your sister doing?"

Luke smiles. "I wouldn't know."

After a beat, Renee lets the matter drop and rests her head back against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment of stillness.

The day is just beginning.

* * *

Almost an hour later, the van comes to a screeching halt and Renee is thrown sideways. Somebody barrels a truck right into their van, the impact jarring and violent. The next thing Renee knows, a small grenade is launched clear into the air, striking the dirt road next to them. The grenade detonates, exploding – and the truck rocks, upended.

Renee shifts with a groan as the back doors slide apart. Two darkly clad men enter the truck. The infrared beam of an M60 machine gun sweeps across the interior of the van. The first prison guard doesn't stand a chance – shot twice in the chest before he can even recover. (Thank god for the hidden Kevlar.) Renee attempts to move, then goes still as a statue.

The beam of a single red dot mars her forehead.

"Enough," Luka orders the masked men. "Get me out of these chains."

A few moments later, Luka is released, and he stares down at Renee, scrutinizing her like a bug on a windshield.

"Sir?" one of the masked men asks Luka. "Should we dispose of her?"

Renee lifts her head. "Luka," she says with a hard edge. "I'm a valuable asset. Don't be wasteful. You can use me."

After a deafening pause, Luka merely narrows his eyes. He turns back and nods once to his men. Renee is released, then roughly dragged by the forearm out of the vehicle. Outside, it's pouring rain and two black vans are waiting with the engines running. The prison guard driver is on his knees on the wet asphalt, and there isn't another car for miles. Luka grabs one of the sidearm weapons from his men, checks the clip and then hands the gun to Renee.

"Kill him," he orders, nodding towards the prison driver.

Renee stares at the offered weapon. She straightens, grabs the gun, then without hesitation fires two rounds into the guard's chest. The guard falls face-first into the pavement. His simple prison uniform, like all the others, hides Kevlar. The Russians don't know that.

Luka nods, but his blank face never changes. "Get her in the car."

She's manhandled into one of the two awaiting vehicles, and Luka starts towards the other one. But before they take off, she sees Luka pause briefly in the streets, raise his weapon towards the fallen guard and unload the entire clip into the prone body. It's pure overkill, an act of driven bloodlust, but her stomach clenches when she sees a splatter of red mist spread out when Luka gets in a headshot.

Bile rises in her throat, but it's Janis' voice in her earpiece that echoes the sentiments she can't say aloud. "God have mercy."

She hopes this will be worth it, in the end.

* * *

When the cars finally arrive at some factory after a twenty-minute drive, a tall blonde woman is waiting for them.

Anya Dmitri greets Renee like an old friend.

* * *

The bathroom facilities are as unsanitary as those she'd find in a roadside gas station, but Renee doesn't complain. Anya gives Renee some of her own clothing, and she eagerly changes out of the orange jumpsuit into some slim jeans and a white tank top. She pulls her hair back into a ponytail, staring back at her reflection through the greasy mirror.

Briefly, she has a flashback to a little over six months ago when she'd gone back under with Vladimir Laitanan as her mark. The rush of nausea is fierce, but only passing.

This isn't the same thing. This isn't the same threat.

Luka is a bastard in a lot of ways, but he has _nothing_ on Vladimir. And Anya – she'd once been the closest thing to a friend Renee had in the entire organization; a solidarity among women, she supposed. Still, for all their past affection, Renee is too observant to miss the slight hint of suspicion in Anya's eyes. Renee spent two years undercover, gaining cred with these people. They don't trust easily, and old friendships only go so far.

"Renee?" Lynn calls over her earpiece. "How's your cover holding up?"

"Fine, but they haven't really probed me much. I shot the driver without hesitation, so it brought me some credibility." She pauses, heavily. "How is… did he…"

"The driver's dead," Lynn cuts in, voice dropping.

And Renee did _nothing_ but watch while it happened.

"Renee, I know what you're thinking but don't do that now. You need to keep your head in the game. Those guards knew what they were signing up for."

Renee doesn't bother responding, and for a few minutes silence reigns until Janis comes on. "One more thing… um, Jack Bauer called. It's actually been his third phone call since this morning." Janis sighs, and wryly adds, "And from what I hear, he's proving as charming a man as I remember."

Renee hides a flinch.

"I didn't know you two were involved," Janis broaches, a little awkwardly.

"We didn't exactly have time to catch up, Janis."

Janis pauses, then offers as a token, "I've got a cat now."

Renee almost smiles. "What did Jack say?"

"He asked about you. He seemed distressed, but Lynn covered for you, just like agreed. Something about a training exercise, but I don't think he bought it."

Renee isn't remotely surprised.

It's been a little over sixteen hours since she'd left that message on Jack's voicemail – a message that was little more than some vague excuse about delaying her return trip to New York. It's perhaps too much to hope that he'd leave the matter alone for a few hours under the assumption that Renee was still reconnecting with her younger sister, Zoey. But if he's already making calls to the Chicago CTU headquarters, it means he's figured out something more is up.

Shit.

"Just stall," Renee says, but she knows that won't work for long with Jack. She's dragged him back into enough messes already, though. This time, she's determined to handle things on her own. "Anything else?"

"No."

She walks back out of the bathroom, and finds that Luka is waiting for her with a serrated knife in his hands. "Renee," Luka greets darkly. "There are rumors that say you were there the day Vladimir Laitanan died."

_Son of a bitch._

* * *

Renee gets bound to a chair for interrogation, threatened with electrocution if she doesn't cooperate. Nothing unexpected, given the circumstances unfolding, but something tells her that the Luca doesn't have the same stomach for abusing women that Vladimir did. Things have barely progressed beyond threats. At least, thus far.

CTU assures her they're sending backup, but Renee isn't too clear on the details and covertly warns them to back off. She knows that once the calvary comes crashing through, the operation is over.

That's the last thing that she can afford to let happen.

Less than thirty-six hours ago, when the FBI learned of Luka's prison break, CTU had been conducting its own investigation into Anya's activities. Right now, there are three missing canisters of a derivative virus of nothing less than the Bubonic Plague; the same disease that killed approximately 150,000,000 people worldwide until it was wiped out in the 1950s. This altered disease isn't curable by the standard antibiotic treatments, either. From what Renee gathers, this new disease called Virus SRX uses the base bacterium Yersinia Pestis to speed up the killing process. A shipment of SRX was stolen from a research facility in Springfield, and could kill half the populated states in 3-5 weeks without treatment or proper containment.

Anya Dmitri is a likely suspect, and it's Renee's job to keep an eye on them from the inside. This operation is bigger than her. She has to find a way to maintain her cover if she can.

Unfortunately, Luka isn't in a cooperative mood.

"Tell me what happened with Vladimir," Luca demands, as electrical sparks fly from the rigged car battery that's being used to coerce Renee's responses. "The rumors of his demise have always been suspicious to me. No one has ever been able to tell me what happened."

"I wasn't there," Renee grits out, angrily. "I don't know where you're getting your information, but it's wrong. I haven't seen Vladimir in years! I didn't even know he was dead!"

"You're lying, Renee."

"I'm not!"

"Luka," Anya stops him, just before he zings Renee with a round of electricity. "This is enough! We don't have time for this! We have to leave within ten minutes."

Shit. She can't let Luka and Anya leave the factory without her, especially if they're conducting the exact business that landed Renee here in the first place, back undercover with the Russians.

"Anya," Renee pleads with a hard edge. "You know me! You know I didn't do anything to Vladimir."

Anya pauses. "I know your history with Vladimir. He was a bastard to you—" she cuts off Luka's protests before they spill loose, "—don't deny it, Luka. You know it's true. You may have been friends with him, but he was obsessed with Renee."

Luka shrugs. "Doesn't give her a right to kill him."

Anya rolls her eyes, sounding annoyed. "If Vladimir had tried half the things he did to Renee with _me_, I'd have cut off his balls years ago. Or you would have done far worse yourself. Vladimir was a useful man, but he was bastard, Luka. You know that."

"He was a good brother."

"Yes, to you he was." Anya pushes away from the wall, striding over. "He was also a smart business man. We have too much riding on today for these petty personal disputes."

Luka glares. "I can't take an hour to find out the truth about my friend's death from this bitch?"

"But she might actually be innocent, and we can use her." Anya turns back to Renee. "Renee is a useful hand to have around, if I recall."

"I still am," Renee replies forcefully. "Whatever you need, I know the right people. I know how to handle business. I always have."

Anya turns back to Luka. "See? She has her uses."

Luka's eyes darken. "We can't let her get involved at this stage. You really trust her?"

"I like her," Anya rebuffs calmly. "C'mon, brother. What do you think she is? A cop?" She scoffs. "Do you remember the report we received of Vladimir's death? He was stabbed multiple times, once even in the eye. Does that sound like a cop killing to you?"

"No, but then that does sound like something a woman would do to a man that tried to rape her."

Anya pauses, then looks back at Renee as she concedes the point. Vladimir's history with Renee is infamous, and all too well-known to the people in this group. "Fine. If she did kill Vladimir, I could care less, but that means she's lying to us now, and then we can't trust her. If we can't trust her, then we have no use for her."

She gestures for one of the men in the back to come forward – Adam Bartos, a tall man with a lean build, dark eyes; Renee remembers him from the old days. Everybody knows Adam, and Adam knows everybody. He is, perhaps, one of the most well-connected men in the group. There's a tattoo on his forearm of a saw and a blindfold, a symbol that old Solntsevskaya men used to indicate a trade in interrogation. If he vouches for someone after questioning them, there's virtually no second-guessing it.

"You finish talking to Renee," Anya instructs Adam. "Luka and I will go to the meeting. I want you to find out everything from Renee. _Everything_, am I understood?"

"What have I done to deserve this?" Renee barks in anger. "Two years, I spent with you! I did my time in prison just like everyone else."

"You must make your bones again, Renee," Anya answers easily. "I know it's terrible, but consider it going through the vetting process all over again. An expedited version, of course."

Renee knows exactly what this vetting process entails – torture. If she can withstand it, she's in. If she doesn't, she's out. The Russians always had a way of testing resolve – it isn't called Russian Roulette for nothing, after all.

"Just don't kill her, Adam," Anya warns. "Make your phone calls, run through her story and verify the facts. Once you're done, you know where to meet us. Luka and I will expect you no later than eight, tonight. If Renee has passed your test by then, bring her with you."

Adam nods. "I'll be there."

And just like that, Luka and Anya walk away to leave her alone in the hands of a man that has murder in his eyes.

* * *

Her voice goes hoarse from screaming.

It's sad to say, though – she's had worse. Adam Bartos isn't half the monster that Vladimir was. Still, a few volts of electricity is enough to leave Renee feeling the sting of abuse, and her body aches with a throb that no amount of adrenaline can cover up.

Adam shakes his head. "You're lying about something, Renee. I can tell. Your story is a little too neat."

"I'm not lying. Why would I?"

"I always know what people are up to, and not once in the last seven years have I heard a word about you. Renee Zadan – it used to be I could hear nothing but that name. What did you do all this time? Fall off the face of the Earth?"

"I laid low," Renee seethes. "You didn't hear about me because I did my job right. I ran with circles other than Russian."

"As an example?"

She pauses. "Germans, but I can't tell you anymore than that. They wouldn't like their names being dropped."

Adam rises from his chair. "I know some Germans. I'll make some phone calls, and you better pray that one of them pans out otherwise I am going to get far more interested in the interrogation part of this evening."

He turns his back on her to make a few phone calls. It makes her nervous, but she has no choice but to trust that CTU did their job right and verified her background with the right people. And while he makes perhaps half a dozen phone calls in the next fifteen minutes, he only stops to take one – a phone call from his wife, Alexandria.

With Russians, family is a big thing. From what Renee remembers from all those years ago, Alexandria was nothing like the thugs that ran with the Solntsevskaya brotherhood. She was a simple woman – _nice_. Even now, in the midst of torture, Adam turns his back to Renee and drops his voice to talk with her, lying about his whereabouts and what's he's currently doing. It's sickening to watch the act, but Renee takes refuge in the brief respite.

When her earpiece clicks, she expects to find Janis coming back on. She's shocked as hell when a different voice drifts over the radio.

"Renee, don't react, it's me. Jack."

It's takes every ounce of willpower to stifle her response – something that no doubt would have been colorful. She didn't even know that Jack was _in_ Chicago, much less brought into the operation. It's not really a surprise, though, once she slows her rapid breathing to think about it. Jack wouldn't waste any time in flying into the state as soon as he suspected something was wrong, and Lynn would have to be stupid to waste a resource like him.

Never one for emotional reactions when there's a job to be done, Jack cuts through all the bullshit. "I've been brought up to speed on what's going on. CTU has got a team waiting to extract you. They're raiding that factory in two minutes. I'd be there too, but I'm still twenty minutes out from your location."

She makes a sound in the back of her throat, protesting, and it comes out sounding like half a choke. Adam pivots back to glare before he returns to his phone call with his wife. Jack's gotta know what she's trying to say, though. He can't come in. Not now. It'll blow the operation, and she knows what he must be thinking – that this is exactly like before, six months ago, except one vindictive Russian has been swapped in for several.

In only a few seconds, Jack has managed to do what Adam hasn't, because her vision blurs with unchecked tears. She feels panic claw at her. The threat of failure in this moment is too choking, too horrifying. She can't allow that to happen. She needs a way to salvage this – to salvage her cover. She needs a way to convince Adam that she had nothing to do with Vladimir's death, even if every night she can vividly remember the sensation of stabbing him over and over again in her nightmares. She needs to salvage this.

No, she realizes.

She needs _leverage_.

"Jack," she whispers softly, because she can only afford a few words without drawing attention from Adam. She pauses, closing her eyes, horrified by what she's about to suggest, but it needs to happen. She can't lose her cover with Anya and Luka. "Use Alexandria Bartos," she breathes in a low voice. "His wife."

A second later, Adam hangs up the phone and turns back to her.

* * *

And because Jack has always been on the same wavelength as her, he immediately understands what she means. There's no explanation necessary. Thirty minutes later, Adam gets a call. No doubt, the caller-ID suggests it's his wife again, but when Adam answers, his whole body stiffens in surprise.

Renee is too busy nursing a bruised body to hear things at first, but eventually the sound of Jack's voice carries over. "I have your wife. Now, if you want to ever see her alive again, you'll do exactly what I say."

Within ten minutes, Adam is unwinding the rope at Renee's hands and feet. "If anything happens to Alexandria," Adam warns, "I'll kill everyone in your family, everyone you ever loved, and I'll make you watch."

* * *

She spots Jack's car exit the highway and turn into the cove beneath the overpass. Earlier the weather had been gloomy, all overcast with thick clouds, but now the rain has stopped and the temperature has risen. The sun shines overhead, but Renee could care less about any of it, still fighting the urge to upchuck her breakfast.

Adam manhandles Renee out of the car, but when Jack gets out of his, he's utterly alone. "Where's my wife?" Adam demands.

Jack pulls off his shades. "You do what I tell you to, and your wife will be fine. She's being held by some associates of mine."

"What? That wasn't part of the deal!"

"The deal is what I say it is," Jack warns. "Or we start sending your wife back, piece by piece. They'll start with something small, maybe a finger or a toe. Then they'll get ambitious."

He tosses Adam a cell phone, and Adam flips it open to find an image of Alexandria bound and gagged, looking terrified. It's time-stamped for fifteen minutes ago. A rush of nausea works through Renee's stomach, but she beats it back because Alexandria won't actually get hurt. This is a ruse, a lie. A necessity.

"Who are you people? She's a civilian!" Adam's face turns red, his grip on Renee's forearm tightening enough to bruise. He flashes her a dark look. "You don't want to make an enemy out of me. You hurt my wife, and there will be no measure to how hard I will fuck you up."

Jack's voice cuts in, cold. "Let Renee go."

After a moment of hesitation, Adam shoves Renee forward. She stumbles a bit, and when she reaches Jack, his hands are soft and gentle when he pulls her bindings free.

"You all right?"

She nods, looking back at Adam. "We need to find out where Luka and Anya went."

Jack tugs her attention back to him. "Are you all right, Renee?"

Most people wouldn't hear it, the soft undercurrent of concern, but it speaks volumes to her. She suddenly imagines the scenario from his point of view – the runaround he must have gotten from Division and CTU since yesterday, his inability to reach Renee, the lack of progress only to find out that she's been marched back into a situation that could only astutely be called her worst nightmare. On any given day, he worries about her more than he lets on. Today, she imagines that might be tenfold – justifiably.

"I'm fine," she says, and means it, if only for his sake.

* * *

It's necessary to come up with a new plan.

Renee knows that Adams has to exonerate her, but Luka and Anya would expect the vetting to go on until late in the evening. They have at least another hour to get their stories straight so they return to the factory. Jack ties up Adam in the same chair he used in torturing Renee, while she cleans up in the bathroom again. Her injuries could be worse. The damage is all muscular and superficial, if ugly looking. The worst is a dark purple bruise that's forming over her lower back.

She doesn't wash away the tacky coat of sweat on her skin – it wouldn't do for her to march back to the Dmitri family smelling fresh, so Renee doesn't do much in the bathroom other than clean wounds and splash some water on her face. Her hair hangs limply around her face, and there are dark circles around her eyes that make her pale skin look almost sickly.

She strips down to her bra and jeans, cleaning up as best as she can but halfway through the door opens and Jack enters. When he looks her over, she feels naked for far more reasons that just her state of undress. He approaches from behind, and she doesn't flinch away when his fingers brush the light bruising on her lower back.

"How're you doing?"

Renee reaches for the faucet and runs her hands under the tepid cool water. "Been better, but the bruising doesn't feel as bad as it looks."

"That's usually the case," Jack replies softly because, of course, he would know. His fingers are still feathery light on her skin. "Renee, you should have told me this was going down."

She sighs heavily. "You've made your feelings about going back under perfectly clear."

"And I haven't made my feelings for you clear?"

"This wasn't about us, Jack. You've heard about the virus. You know what's at stake."

"There's always some deal like that going on. There's always some threat—"

Renee turns around, bringing them face-to-face. "If anyone can understand what I'm trying to do, I thought it'd be you. After everything you've done for this country—"

"I'm worried about you," Jack counters. "Six months ago, you went through a lot – more than anyone had a right to ask of you."

"This isn't the same thing."

"Yeah? Then why did I walk into CTU to find out that you were being tortured?"

She flinches away, angry. That isn't fair. He knows better than anyone that sometimes the situation gets out of control. She knows he's wired tight, and all of this is just frustration letting loose. Frustration that's probably been building ever since she left him that voicemail yesterday. But it still isn't fair for him to unload on her like this, especially when if the tables had been turned, Jack would have made the _same_ exact decisions she did.

She turns away and reaches for her shirt again.

"Hey, hey," he stops her with a hand on her forearm, and his voice drops, this time far more gentle. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, it's just… I was worried about you. I just wish you would have told me what was going down."

He pulls her into a hug, and for a second, she's still defensive and on edge. But a second later, her body melts into his and she suddenly can't remember why they were fighting in the first place. His arms close tighter around her, and she just feels so _exhausted_. The day's events catch up with Renee, and she could stay here cocooned in his arms for hours if circumstances would just permit it.

_Jack,_ she wants to say, _Thank you for coming._

She knows he'd never hear it, though

* * *

When Renee finally emerges from the bathroom, Jack is still interrogating Adam. The symmetry of the scene in front of her, one that mirrored her own position an hour back, isn't lost on her. She spots a bottle of Tylenol in the corner, and snags it along with a bottled water. She can only take a couple of pills but nothing stronger because she doesn't want painkillers affecting her reflexes.

Jack looks up when he sees her approaching, and lifts off the chair. "Luka and Anya are up to some sort of arms deal, but Adam doesn't know the details yet. They're playing this close to the chest. He just knows the name of their buyer. I've already sent CTU agents to apprehend and detain them."

She glances over to Adam in the far corner of the room. "You believe him?"

Jack follows her gaze, staring at Adam. "I've convinced him that we're part of a terrorist group, and that we're willing to torture and mutilate his wife if he doesn't cooperate. He's scared. He'll do whatever we tell him to."

Renee pauses, disquieted. The fact that they're using an innocent woman as leverage disturbs her, even if it was Renee's idea in the first place. Renee has no love lost for Adam, but she wishes they didn't have to drag his wife into this. Alexandria's only crime is being married to an asshole.

"Where is she now?"

"At CTU."

Renee shakes her head, and a part of her wants to take solace in the cold comfort that at least the good guys have Alexandria in their custody, but then something else occurs to Renee. Quietly, she slips off her earpiece and holds it tightly in her fists so that it cuts off sound reception.

She hesitates, then says, "I've been thinking about that, actually. I'm not sure CTU is secure."

_That_ gets Jack's immediate attention. "What are you talking about?"

"Back, before, Luka said he heard rumors that I was there when Vladimir died. But everyone there that day is dead, Jack. I killed Vladimir and you took out the rest of his men. Where is he getting this information from, then?"

Jack follows her thinking instantly. "The only people that knew were CTU agents."

"And now the FBI."

Jack curses under his breath. "Goddamnit."

"It's nothing definitive," Renee tacks on, quickly. "If someone gave Luka proof of my involvement, I'd be dead right now. He only had rumors to go off of."

"Rumors are enough to get you killed."

Well, tortured at the very least.

Renee forces out a deep breath, then thinks it over as she pops two pills into her mouth and swallows them with a gulp of water. _God, she's tired._ She shakes the thought loose and refocuses. Despite the urgency of the situation and the fact that neither of them can afford a single misstep, especially something as calamitous as a CTU leak, something in Renee wards her off. Something isn't right about this theory. She just can't pinpoint what.

"I trust Janis," she tells him. "We can use her to track down the leak."

Jack doesn't look like he likes that idea. "Are you sure? You haven't been working with Janis for years."

"We had a falling out because I went off the reservation – not because _she_ did. Janis is a straight arrow. She always has been."

"She might have to break some protocol to do what we're asking her," Jack warns. "Is she up for that?"

Renee freezes for a beat, because as much as she wants to believe it, she isn't sure she can ask that much of Janis anymore. Once upon a time, Janis would have done anything for her, but that was what landed their friendship in hot water in the first place. Renee had forced Janis into some questionable circumstances – once, even, at gunpoint.

A person couldn't just mend bridges after something like that. Their friendship didn't break so much as ebb away, awkwardness and uncertainty taking the place of the camaraderie that thrived between them years ago.

"Yes," Renee responds, with far more confidence than she feels. "I'll handle it."

Jack nods. "I'll finish questioning Adam and figure out what we're going to be telling the Dmitris."

* * *

"Janis, are you there?"

The voice comes back over her earpiece. "I can read you loud and clear, Renee. God, how're you doing?"

"I'm fine."

"Good, because most people wouldn't be after what you just went through."

Renee turns away because she doesn't want to talk about the torture. "Janis, I need you to put me on a secure line for a moment – just you and me."

Janis pauses uneasily. "Okay." A few seconds later, she comes back on. "We're clear."

Renee runs a hand through her hair. "Look, Janis, I have reason to believe that someone on the joint-task force has leaked or is leaking information to the Russians." After spending a few brief moments stating her reasons, Renee doesn't sugarcoat the indelicate position she's putting Janis in. "It's going to get messy, but something needs to be done. I know we're asking a lot, but—"

"You need me to find the leak," Janis cuts in, knowingly, releasing a tense exhale that's audible even over the radio waves. "God, I hate this. Doesn't CTU run background checks on their people?"

"Any place can be infiltrated," Renee informs, "even the FBI. This is a joint-task force, Janis. Look wherever you have to."

Dead silence reigns. Renee wants to say more, but she isn't exactly sure what.

"Yeah," Janis says eventually, with a touch of that wry humor that does little to cover up her anxiety. "No problem. I'll just break rules and a few interagency protocols, and stick my nose where no one wants it. I'm sure it'll make me new friends."

"Thanks, Janis."

"You'll owe me one for this."

Renee almost smiles, and for a beat, it feels just like old times. "We'll add it to the running tab."

* * *

"What's the plan now?" she asks Jack.

Jack has his inventory of guns and supplies out on display, sleeves rolled up his forearms. "Adam takes you in to meet back up with Luka and Anya. I've already gone over with him exactly what he has to say. He's clear on the terms. He'll vouch for you."

"What about you?"

"I'll stay back and watch from a distance until you call me in."

Renee catches on quickly. "As a competing buyer?"

Jack nods. "Ernst Meier."

She almost does a double take, because she never forgets a name and she wouldn't forget this one in particular. "That's the name of the German arms dealer you played six months ago with Laitanan."

"You actually gave me the idea when you mentioned the Germans before."

Renee can see the pieces fall into place. "We worked together for two years in Mexico City. Same story, same details as before. We already know the cover."

Jack nods again. "CTU will take out the original buyer. When Anya and Luka find out that their plan is falling apart, you suggest me in as a competing bid. I'll come in, and we'll work the operation together. Until then, I'll be watching from a distance."

Renee lets a tense exhale loose. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

She sheaths a small gun along her calf and once again reminds Adam to play this out exactly like they agreed, but he just grunts once in acknowledgement and tells her to get in the fucking truck. It's close to sunset by the time Adam drives them to the meeting point, and it isn't remotely what Renee is expecting. She allows him to escort her up the front lawn of an isolated multi-million dollar mansion, some forty minutes out of the city limits.

The place is beautifully decorated with a rustic, antique feel. When they enter, she finds there are pieces of furniture that she suspects to be decades old, some possibly centuries. There are no pictures of people that Renee can see from the foyer, but it has the feeling of old money. The Dmitri family is entirely new to money; Anya and Luka made their fortune and fame from the ashes of a poor, broken home in northern Bronx.

This house isn't theirs. They're just temporarily using it.

"Renee," Anya greets, from the top of the grand staircase. Renee half expects her to glide down the staircase like a high-class hostess greeting her guest, but then behind her, two armed guards with AK-47 flank her as she descends and it ruins the image a little. "I knew you'd clear Adam's test."

Beside her, Adam grunts. "Yeah, well… she checked out."

"Did she, now?"

Renee forces a grim smile, eyes dark. "I'm standing here, aren't I? What does that tell you?"

Anya's gaze slides over to Adam, and when he fails to add anything to the conversation, Anya turns her attention back to Renee. The scrutiny is harsh and judgmental, and Renee stands stiff. She has to play this smart – she can't be too friendly; these people just put her through torture, and Renee didn't earn her reputation among the Russians as being a pushover. She can't play it too angry either; she still needs Anya to think she's willing to work with them.

"It had to be done," Anya says at last. "We don't trust easily. We needed to confirm your story."

"Yeah, well, Adam made the calls, and he asked me all the questions. Can we move on, now?"

Anya gives a small laugh. She gestures once and they follow her around the corner to the living room where there's a wet bar. "Anything to drink?"

Renee thinks it over. "Vodka. Double shot."

Anya pours both of them a glass. "You can clean up upstairs. Feel free to raid the closet to find a fresh change of clothes. You'll be comfort—"

"Cut the bullshit, Anya," Renee interrupts. "I didn't come here for a nightcap and free night's stay at Casa de Dmitri. I want in."

"In?"

"With whatever you have going down tonight. I'm not an idiot. You've got a score of some type. I can help."

"You don't even know what the deal is," Anya counters.

"I'm resourceful in many ways," Renee returns as takes the glass of vodka. "I'm sure I'll make myself useful."

Anya lifts an eyebrow. "Why don't you go clean up, Renee? I want to talk with Adam first."

She turns back to trade a quick look with Adam, and with it, a subtle threat. He better stick to the plan. It's clear Anya is too smart to let Renee into the game just yet, but with Adam's help, she might get her foot in the door soon enough.

Reluctantly, Renee slams back the shot of vodka and walks away.

* * *

She runs into Luka at the top of the second floor. He looks surprised to see her, and then a little suspicious, and Renee can't help it – she has to get in a little jab. "What?" Renee asks. "Disappointed to see me in one piece?"

Luka's eyes barely flicker. "No, I'm sure Adam did a… thorough interrogation."

"He was a peach," Renee assures him, wryly. "You can go down and ask him, yourself. Your sister's getting the information right now."

Luka regards her with a cool stare, then descends a step, bringing them face-to-face. The proximity is closer than she likes. It reminds her of the fact that Luka just spent the last five years of his life in prison, and she hopes that this isn't his fucked up idea of flirting. He was never a Casanova, but prison tends to make a man a lot less refined than what he was going in.

"The second door on your left," he tells her.

"What?"

"To clean up," Luka replies, then brushes past her without another glance. "The room on the second door to your left. And hurry. We've got plans for tonight."

Renee stares after him until he's out of sight. The bedroom turns out to be small, but tasteful. Renee removes her jacket with a wince, feeling sore muscles, then throws it across the back of a high-rise chair. She glances around the place, then opens up the closet to rummage through clothes. She pulls out a spare t-shirt, this one red, and decides to keep the slim jeans she has on because nothing else in the closet looks like it'll fit. When she's about to close the closet door, that's when she notices it – a small camera, almost hidden, affixed to the upper left corner of the room.

_Son of a bitch._

Anger rolls through her. Renee takes the spare clothes into the connecting bathroom, where she searches and finds _another_ camera. Jesus, she'll only be able to communicate with Jack in the shower stall. Left with no other option, she starts the water and strips, quickly slipping into the shower.

Thankfully, the earpiece that CTU supplied her can withstand the water without interrupting reception. "Jack," she says under the stream of the shower, waiting for a response from her earpiece. "What's happening?"

"CTU just to— out the buyer," Jack informs over the noise of the shower.

She presses a hand over her ear, straining to listen. "Say again?"

His voice comes back louder, clearer. "CTU just took out the buyer. Three casualties, and none of the captured seem willing to speak. It doesn't matter. We proceed exactly as planned."

Renee sighs heavily, then rests back against the tiled walls. And then, abruptly, for no reason that she can discern, she has a sudden flashback to six months ago. To the bathroom, as she stepped out of the shower to find Vladimir – the way he had called to her. _Renee, come here._ She must go quiet for too long because Jack's voice in her ear brings her back to reality.

"Yeah," she recovers with a fumble, clearing her throat. "Proceed as planned."

More emotion must slip into the words than she intends, because Jack goes quiet for a beat before he breathes her name – a soft utterance, the same one she only hears at night when she wakes from the thick fog of a nightmare to find herself in his arms. She can imagine so many things he's thinking in the hush that follows – whether she's up for this, whether she has what it takes to do this right this time.

For a beat, she's not sure that she can.

Old doubts fester, and she's still so tired and emotionally exhausted from before, but it's no excuse because she knows Jack's been in this position more than once, post-torture, and he's never faltered. Neither can she.

"Tell me something interesting," she says, suddenly, out of the blue.

"What?"

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. "Tell me something interesting. I don't know what. Something, anything. Just not having to do with Russians and deadly virus and—" she breaks off, sighing as resignation floods her. Suddenly she feels foolish. "You know what? Never mind. Just forget it."

She thinks he's let it go, but after a lull in conversation, Jack's voice breaks the hush. "I met your sister."

Renee goes still. "What?"

"Earlier today, your sister picked me up from the airport."

For a full two seconds, she can't for the life of her imagine that meeting – Jack Bauer and her ultra free-spirited sister. Nor does she particularly want to imagine the circumstances that led up to it. Jack can be… _intense_ when he's on a mission for something. She doubts Zoey responded well to that.

"What happened?"

"Nothing really. She seemed nice."

"Nice?" she repeats dubiously.

"Yeah. What? Your sister isn't normally nice?" He pauses. "Though she did think I was overreacting to your absence. She actually called me a worry-wart."

She stifles a hefty laugh. "I'm sorry I missed that."

"She reminded me a little of Kim, actually."

"They're all like that at that age," Renee returns.

She clears her throat, suddenly remembering herself and the situation again. But the brief levity goes a long way, and she feels just a little bit better than before. Jack always manages to do that. She wonders if he has any idea just how much he can affect her mood – how _easily_. She doubts it. For such an astute man, he can be utterly oblivious about some things.

That's part of his charm, though.

* * *

By the time Renee is downstairs again, things have progressed faster than she anticipated. She walks into the living room to find brother and sister yelling at each other across the room, and they're using Russian words that are never used in polite company.

"Пошёл на хуй!" Luka barks. "We shouldn't be playing with these things, Anya. It's too dangerous."

"По-моему, это хуйня," Anya returns, taunting. She turns to one of her men, ordering with a bark, "Принеси мне эту хуёвину."

Renee stays back, half hidden by shadows as one of Anya's men rushes off to retrieve something valuable. For a second, Renee hopes against hope that it's the SRX Virus, but that's wishful thinking and she knows it. Anya is impetuous, not stupid. She'd never leave something like that lying around a mansion like this. No, it's going to be somewhere far more secure.

"You're just scared," Anya continues, "This is an opportunity of a lifetime! We can't just let it slip through our fingers, Luka!"

"We don't have a buyer!"

"Then we get another!"

Renee makes her presence known. "Am I interrupting something?"

Both freeze instantly, apparently having forgotten that Renee is on the same planet as them, much less the same house. Luka eyes her with a hostile look, but Anya's is more calculating than cold.

"Renee," Anya says suddenly. "Adam tells me you worked with an arms dealer in Mexico City a year back?"

Renee nods. "Yeah."

"You still in contact with him?"

She lets the question linger for a second, pretending to think about it. "I can reach him, yeah."

"What's his name?"

"Ernst Meier. He works for the Germans. What's this all about?"

Luka and Anya trade looks, and then, with a frustrated sigh and some colorful Russian, Luka finally relents. He nods his head to Anya, and Renee finds herself hearing the words she's been waiting to hear since this entire operation began – though with an unexpected twist.

"Tomorrow, we're getting our hands on three cases of the SRX virus."

Renee shows surprise and it's only half-an-act. She thought Anya _already_ had possession of the virus, but things are apparently a bit more complicated than that. That means another player is in the game.

"From who? From where?"

Luka steps forward. "That doesn't concern you." He turns to Adam. "You ever heard of him? This Meier guy?"

For a beat, Adam freezes, an angry vein in his neck flexing. "Yeah," he says at length. "He's legit – and exactly the type of man we need right now."

Renee almost exhales in relief, and when Anya instructs them to tell her more, Renee has the fleeting thought that this is almost too easy. This, usually, is when the shit hits the fan. Still, never look a gift horse in the mouth, she tells herself. Renee slides into a nearby chair, and she has Anya's undivided attention.

Luka, on the other hand, just looks pissed.

* * *

When Jack finally arrives at the mansion, it's after two million dollars is wired to an offshore account as a good faith payment for the SRX virus. Luka greets him at the door, and the two men shake hands like civilized business acquaintances. The sight is almost amusing, and Luka proves far more hospitable to Jack than he's ever been to Renee. She suspects it's a combination of chauvinism and greed.

Two million dollars would make almost any host eager to please their guest.

"Renee," Jack greets her, when she steps into view.

"Meier," she returns coolly.

Luka drops a bag on the floor. "Let's get down to business. Renee and Adam assure me that you're the type of man we might be interested in doing trade with. You know the details?"

"Renee mentioned enough on the phone," Jack replies. "Three cases of the SRX virus."

"Available to you as soon as tomorrow morning. We wanted to meet tonight to get to know each other. I don't like working with people I don't know. It's Russian tradition, you understand? Business partners should always be friends."

Jack's eyes darken, trading a look with Luka that expresses his opinion of that with caustic overtones. "With all due respect, I don't give a damn about your traditions. I prefer to maintain a professional distance. My clients appreciate discretion."

"I'm sure they do, but you want to do business with us, then you must know that Russians never get into bed with a partner without knowing exactly who they are." Luka pauses, pointedly. "Though I'm sure Renee has already made you familiar with this concept. She spoke very highly of you."

The jab is neither subtle nor amusing, but Renee forces herself not to react. It's not surprising that everyone assumes she's in bed with "Meier." Besides, she has no problem with letting others think that – it's close enough to the truth.

Jack stares at Luka with a frigid stare, but Luka doesn't even flinch. "Come," Luka says, gesturing. "Relax. Enjoy our hospitality. By the morning, we should be like old friends."

Renee knows that Jack has no option left but to play along – for now.

* * *

Things almost feel surreal when Renee finds herself sandwiched between Jack and Luka at dinner. The long mahogany table has enough food to feed twice their number, and despite the fact that she's barely eaten anything all day, her appetite is defeated by an uneasy case of anxiety. She has no idea what Luka is doing, playing this game, but he subjects both of them to a series of questions during dinner, half of which are innocuous and the other half downright prosecutorial.

Jack and Renee, of course, handle it as best they can. Even if they hadn't gone over their cover together in detail, Renee has always shared a simpatico with Jack that she can hardly describe with words. They play off each other easily, the coordinated lies falling into place.

"So how did you two meet?" Anya asks, curiously.

"In Tripoli," Jack answers. "Three years ago. I wanted to handle some sensitive material in a timely fashion, and I needed someone to babysit the material as it made its way across Libya. Renee turned out to be skillful. We've been in close partnership ever since."

"Except," Luka cuts in with a smile that's disingenuous at best, threatening at worst, "during the last six months, I imagine?" Jack looks over, but he doesn't bother to answer because there isn't really a question behind the statement. Renee Zadan spent the last six months in jail. "So, this is a reunion then?" Luka prods. "How touching."

"Forgive my brother," Anya interjects wryly. "He's an asshole."

Adam walks through the side door. "Luka, we gotta talk. Something's come up."

Beside her, Renee can feel Jack stiffen ever so slightly. She doubts others pick up on it, but Renee does because she's fighting back the same urge. Adam, thus far, has been the perfect puppet for them, but she can sense the restrained hostility beneath the surface and every time he speaks with Anya or Luka in private, Renee can't fight down a sense of foreboding panic.

While Luka attends to the business, Anya leans over to Jack. "Meier, it's getting late and we have an early morning tomorrow. You're free to use one of the spare bedrooms upstairs. My men will escort you there." She turns to Renee. "Renee, I need to speak with you in private."

Anya leaves the table, and after exchanging another quiet look with Jack, Renee gets up to follow her. Anya delays the conversation until Jack is out of the room, headed upstairs. Suspicion darkens her eyes.

"I know that man from somewhere," she tells Renee. "Where has Meier done business in the last decade?"

Renee stares at her, her lips parting slightly, both out of surprise and incredulity. "What? You know I can't tell you more details than he's willing to say. He protects his former clients, and that includes locations." Renee continues in a confused voice, "You… you think you've done business with Meier before?"

"No," Anya refutes swiftly. "But he looks familiar and I can't place where I know him from. Is it possible that he worked in the US during the past decade?"

Renee has to think fast. "Only in the last few months. Before that, he avoided the states. Too much has happened since 9/11 to make our lives more difficult."

Anya nods, still looking suspicious. "He looks very familiar."

For a beat, a sickening thought occurs to Renee. Jack Bauer is notorious among many circles – an infamy that was helped along by the press, especially during the senate hearings two years ago. His face had been splashed across every newspaper from the Pacific coast to the Atlantic. How ironic would it be to come all this way and jump through so many hoops to gain the Dmitri family's trust, only to have everything undone because of a long-forgotten news article that Anya once saw in passing?

When Luka reenters the room, he appears upset and sends Anya a pointed look that leaves her waving the topic of Jack quickly away. "Never mind. Go, rest for the night, Renee. I'll see you in the morning."

The abrupt dismissal sends warning bells off in Renee's head, and she's desperately curious about the development that seems to have Luka on edge. She has little choice but to follow orders, though. She exits the room to leave the two siblings to talk amongst themselves.

* * *

She climbs the stairs back to the small bedroom they'd given her earlier. She has no idea what room Jack has, but she knows better than to go wandering around the house. It'd raise too much suspicion. She feels like a trapped rat – or worse, a trained pet. For a few minutes, Renee paces the length of the bedroom, nervous and restless, all too aware of the camera affixed in the corner that watches her every move. Shaking her head, she walks to the window where silver moonlight fills the night sky. The light from the nearby street lamp pools into misty yellow circles on the road, and she can hear the faint sound of incoherent, murmured whispers from below.

Something is wrong. Something is deadly wrong.

It's only a matter of minutes before a quiet knock sounds on her door. Jack is waiting outside and she tosses a look around to find his guards waiting at the end of the corridor. She steps back, allowing him to enter, and when she shuts the door behind her, she realizes what needs to happen now.

Jack starts speaking, "Renee, we need to—"

The searching pressure of her lips finds his. Whether or not he's surprised, she can't tell because after a beat he's following her lead. Jack frames her face with his hands, and his tongue strokes, seeking invitation that she readily gives. She sets the tempo of the kiss as insistent, all open-mouthed and tongue, her fingers dragging along his scalp.

There are only so many reasons he'd visit her this late in the night, and Renee sees no problem in feeding into the idea of them sleeping together. It's better than raising suspicions that they're colluding. And if they're supposed to be lovers, long estranged because Renee Zadan allegedly spent the last six months in jail, the kiss shouldn't be simple or polite. Renee takes advantage of that and Jack returns the favor by pulling her tight against him, hands moving down over the small of her back, under her shirt.

Mind awhirl, he edges her body against the wooden cabinet, pressing her against the oak until she breaks the kiss with an audible gasp. "Where's the camera?" he breathes into her ear, and she nods her head to lead him to the mark.

He follows her gaze, and then suddenly she's whirled around and backed up against the next wall. He pins her there, hands bracketed on either side of her – and he sneaks a glance at the camera. The maneuver places them almost out of sight, but it still isn't good enough. Renee is too busy being distracted by his use of force, one that surprises her even if she knows that Jack is feeding into the role as much as she is. His broad shoulders and arms are solid beneath her grip as he pushes her up against the wall, and for a second, despite herself, her body responds to the proximity of him.

The next kiss is intense and aggressive, not at all like the kisses she's used to from him. He always starts off slow and tempered, and it takes a second for her to remember that it's usually in respect to issues… well, to issues all named Vladimir Laitanan. Still, they've done plenty enough before, but this feels different, more intense.

Trying to focus, Renee realizes that they need to move to a place where there aren't any listening devices. "Shower," she whispers, then leads Jack towards the bathroom like some siren seductress. They fumble backwards towards the connecting bathroom, still kissing, until she's passed the threshold and they can slam the door closed behind them.

Jack's tongue slides against her mouth, doing all types of reckless things to her control, and she moans and plants one hand around his belt buckle, desperate to undo the cinch. The other hand is around his jeans, cupping the tight curve of his ass, encouraging him to rock into her. God, this is… she realizes this might get out of hand. She's been with Jack for months now, and he's always kept his own libido in check in deference to her. Now they're performing for an audience of Russian mobsters, and _Jesus_, this should feel wrong – it should feel like a violation or something. But arousal strokes between her thighs, a building tide, and Renee realizes she's fooling herself as much as anyone watching.

Jack pulls away to start the shower. As the rush of water fills the air, he steps back and they both fumble to strip while kissing, until their clothes litter the floor. Jack positions himself in front of her, blocking the camera, and she almost laughs because even now, even here, he's trying to protect her or whatever semblance of her modesty that he can. The steam from the shower is already filling the bathroom, but all Renee feels is deliciously warm breath on her mouth, hot and suffocating.

They fumble into the stall together, instantly soaked, and the door closes after them. They break from kissing almost immediately but they don't separate. He leans heavily against her for a moment, and she's trapped against the tiled wall and Renee almost doesn't want to move. What's happening now is testing their limits and restraints, and Renee can feel the evidence of his hard arousal against her thigh.

"Renee," Jack begins in a heavy voice, one that was _made_ for the bedroom, "We should… We can't…" he trails off, but it doesn't matter because she knows. They can't get distracted. "Christ," he curses softly in frustration.

"I know," she says for him, because she does.

He nods, and she can feel his slick muscles under her palms, the water cascading down his back as he brackets her against the wall. Their bodies are pressed naked against each other, flush from top to bottom, and there's no hiding his arousal or dismissing hers.

She tries to refocus back on business. "Something's wrong. Luka looked upset."

Jack pulls back, just barely.

"I don't know why," she continues. "But Adam knows. He's the one that pulled Luka aside. We need to get to him."

Jack nods. "I'll talk to Adam."

Renee's eyes fall to his lips again. For a woman that's had a mental block when it comes to sex these last few months, there's something in her is now that's goading Renee past her normal restraints. She doesn't mean to, but it's like she can't stop herself. She pulls him back down for another kiss, this time slow and seductive, the deliberate intent behind it enough to ebb Jack's defenses away. She's not thinking about the Russians downstairs, or Vladimir, or any number of the hang ups she's faced in her messy life. In that moment, it's just Jack – _this is Jack._ She's safe with him.

It's Jack, and she loves him.

She drags a hand through his hair, and decides impulsively, _fuck it._ She's been hiding from this long enough – maybe this push is exactly what she needs to get over her longstanding intimacy problems? Her hand trails down past his sternum, then she wraps her fingers around his erection, squeezing with just the right pressure. Jack sucks in a breath of surprise, but there's hardly protest. When she slides her finger up and down, she can feel tension line his body, his hands clenched into fists at her sides. The image he is in that moment is one of the most deeply erotic images she has ever seen.

But he pulls back, forcing Renee to loosen her grip. Jack is gentle with her – so _reverent_. He places a warm kiss along her collarbone, and gentle hands slide over her belly before he releases a harsh breath and steps back.

"We can't," he tells her in a low voice. "Not like this. Not here. I don't want you to regret this."

It stuns her a little, that Jack can have so much control, so much restraint when she knows he wants this as much as she does – probably a lot more. Still, he's always looking out for her, and doing this – here, now – it isn't the right way. She wanted to forget it for a second, but Jack won't let himself do the same. After a beat, Renee feels something dislodge in her throat, like a breath she hadn't realized she was holding in. He steps clear of the water, grabs a nearby towel and wraps it around his waist before stepping out.

"Hey," she calls at the last second, causing him to turn around. "When this op is over…"

She trails off, but Jack smiles because he knows where she's going with the statement. Renee returns the smile, watching him leave the bathroom, and for a moment afterwards, she rests back against the wall, letting the stream of water wash over her.

That's when she hears a burst of gunfire from downstairs, echoing through the entire mansion.

* * *

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

They find Adam Bartos facedown on the ground with a bullet in his leg. Luka aims his gun up as Jack and Renee burst into the room, and Renee hears the click of weapons everywhere. Four men, including Luka, and they're all pointing their guns at Jack and Renee. Anya isn't anywhere to be seen.

"What's going on?" Jack demands.

Luka ignores him, setting his sights on Renee. "Why don't you ask Renee? Or should I say… Renee _Walker_?"

The world stops spinning or she stops breathing or time slows down to a standstill. It's like that for a few seconds as she realizes – _shit, her cover's blown._ She thinks for a half a tick about denying it – playing ignorant or confused, but they know her real name and that's the whole ballgame.

"A fucking FBI agent," Luka spits, eyes wide and livid. He grabs her and before she can stop it, he spots her earpiece and yanks it out. "You fucking whore," he screams, crushing the small bud in his hand. "You're the reason I was sent to jail! You bitch!"

Everything happens so fast after that.

Two men restrain Renee and another two seize Jack by the arms, forcing both down onto their knees. Jack must have left his earpiece behind somewhere else because he comes off clean in the ensuing search.

"Luka, I—" Renee begins.

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" Luka rages and, Christ, the last time she saw him this pissed off was six years ago when he'd taken a blowtorch to a man's face. "I can't believe it was _you_. All these years, I've wondered how the government knew, how they got to us. It was _you_."

Renee's eyes slid briefly to Adam, who's clutching the oozing blood from his wound, desperately trying to stem the bleeding. Did he give her up? No, Renee realizes. He never knew her real name. And he wouldn't have risked anything with his wife still in peril.

She opens her mouth to respond to all the accusations, but Luka swings an arm out and Renee gets struck with the hard edge of his gun, smack across her face. She crumbles to the ground, and Jack lurches.

"Look," Jack begins. "I don't—"

"Shut up, Meier," Renee cuts in quickly, spitting a wad of blood and a loosened tooth onto the floor. Just because her covers blown doesn't necessarily mean his is, and she can't take that chance. "Can't you see the man is trying to vent a little?" She turns back to Luka. "Oh, and I'm not with the FBI anymore. It's a different agency, but I guess it's all the same to you guys, right?"

Jack's gaze slides to connect with hers, catching on. It's a beat before his eyes widen, and then he's saying in surprise, "FBI?" Then, with anger. "You're telling me you're fucking FBI?"

"_Was,_" Renee corrects in a bitchy little tone, like this is something she's wanted to tell Meier for years now. "Now I'm CTU. What? I told you I was well connected, Meier. It just turned out to be for the other side."

Jack makes a grab for her, like he wants to choke the life right out of her just like Luka, but the guards put him down. Luka watches the entire thing unfold in front of him, but he doesn't look convinced in the least.

Luka looms over them with murder in his eyes. "Do you take me for a fool? You think I'll believe you aren't FBI too? Or CTU, or whatever the fuck."

Jack protests, "Look, Luka, whoever she is, I'm not a part of it. Jesus, I've got as much to lose in this as you do. She played us both for a fool!"

Renee smiles. "Wasn't that difficult. You made it easy." Luka strikes her across the face again, and the room spins for a few seconds before she cradles her jaw, wiping blood off her chin. "Out of curiosity, Luka," she grimaces, biting out the words, "how did you find out?"

Luka glares. "I have my sources." He tosses a dark look at Adam. "Though this fucker was supposed to confirm your story, but you fooled him somehow."

Adam's eyes fly from Luka to Renee to Jack, unsure and frightened.

"She fooled a lot of us," Jack adds. "I'm not a part of that!"

Luka whirls. "Shut up! I don't tolerate lies or incompetence. You're either one or the other, and let me show you what I do with men who don't clean up their own messes." Luka turns his back and fires two rounds into Adam's forehead. Renee flinches as a splatter of blood hits her, and the body falls forward with a heavy thud. Luka turns back to Jack. "Adam was supposed to verify her story. He failed. I don't tolerate failure, so, Meier, if that is your name or not, I don't give a fuck. You're a dead man either way."

Jack protests, yelling, "Don't be stupid, Luka. We can still do business! I can still make you millions! Look, I'll kill the bitch myself to prove it!"

"I thought you two were close," Luka returns snidely. "Upstairs, they tell me you were fucking in the shower."

"I like to screw women," Jack replies in a hard voice. "Not be screwed over by them. I'll kill her. Give me a gun and I'll prove it."

Luka shakes his head. "Do I look like an idiot to you?"

Jack's eyes harden. "Fine. I don't need a gun. Give a knife. I'll slit her throat right here and now."

Despite herself, Renee feels something lurch in her stomach.

Luka pauses, considering, then after a beat he smiles, and there's something predatory and psychotic in that smile. He laughs a bit, like he's gaining amusement out of Jack's desperation, then gestures with his gun for one of his men to step forward.

"Give him a knife," Luka orders.

It feels surreal, those next few seconds as they stretch out, seemingly an eternity. Jack rises to accept the knife. Her breath lodges in her throat, and a thousand things rush through Renee's mind in a millisecond. They're outnumbered and outgunned, and Jack needs to sell this. He needs to secure his cover to get to the virus.

Jack stares down at her, and there's a veil of anger on his face but Renee can see beyond that – at the desperate horror in his eyes. There's an apology there, and she wants to tell him that it's okay, that it's okay for him do whatever it is he has to do. Renee knows better than anyone the type of man Jack is. The recollection of once being shot and buried alive is only an all too vivid memory for Renee, often revisited in nightmares.

"Do it," Luka urges. "Slice her from ear to ear."

Renee swallows, then sets her jaw into a hard line. "Just do it and get it over with."

Jack approaches her, and then without warning, flings the blade into one guard's neck and then launches himself at Luka. Renee doesn't miss a beat because she can't afford to. She slams an elbow back against one of the guard's jaw. The next adversary jumps forward, a shot rings out, and then chaos breaks loose. 

* * *

In the end, there are four dead Russians on the floor, and Luka is badly wounded but still fighting. Staggering two steps to the right, Jack shifts his attack and advances, whipping up a right uppercut that sends Luka reeling to the ground. Renee rushes forward, pinning his hand down with her heel, and then grabs the sidearm discarded nearby on the floor.

"Don't move!" Renee warns, winded and bleeding, but her aim is as steady as ever. She tosses a look over her shoulder to find Jack doubled over in pain. "Jack! Are you all right?"

Jack straightens, holding his left side awkwardly. "I'll be fine."

Luka sputters up blood. Eyes widening, Renee drops to her knees and rips open his shirt to find a fatal wound on his lower abdomen. Kidney shot. "Shit," Renee curses under her breath. "Jack, he's bleeding out!"

Jack rushes over, and together the next few minutes fly by in a whirl as they're applying pressure and trying to do everything they can to stave off the inevitable. "Tell us where the virus is!" Jack barks. "We'll let you die otherwise! Tell us where the virus is!"

Seeing the futility of any life-saving measures, Luka grimaces and then glares. "Go to hell."

"Where's Anya?" Renee tries. "Does she have the virus? Where is the virus?"

"Anya will kill you," Luka promises, staring at Renee with unbridled hatred. "Of that, I have no doubt. I'm just sorry I won't be there to watch it."

Renee stills. It's pointless asking Luka any questions and everyone here knows it. They watch Luka sputter up some more blood, stiffen, and then let out a rattled breath before he dies. Jack and Renee are left crouched over his body with his blood on their hands.

"Damn it," Jack curses, jerking away in frustration. 

* * *

"We have to track his sister down."

The mansion is empty; the only occupants are Jack and Renee and a whole host of dead bodies. While Renee searches the place from top to bottom, Jack reconnects with CTU. Her search turns up nothing but one laptop and a satellite phone, and she hauls the material back to the main living room where Jack is recouping.

Renee marches in, all business, and settles the laptop on the desk. "Anya must have taken the rest of the men and whatever supplies they had with her when she left. She's probably meeting up with the people that have the virus." Renee needs to think. She needs to take a breath, step back, and figure out exactly what's going on. Frustration bubbles up to the surface. "How did they find out about me?"

She turns to find Jack holding his side again. The sight throws her, and Renee immediately drops her line of thinking. She steps forward and he tries to wave her off, but Renee is more stubborn than him on this point. After exchanging a warning look, he reluctantly gives in to a check-up.

She peels back his shirt to find an ugly stab wound. "It's nothing," he tells her. "Flesh wound."

Renee glares. "We need you to—"

"I'm not going to the hospital," Jack cuts her off. "We don't have time. What's on the laptop?"

She sets her lips into a thin line, wanting to argue the point. Except she has no choice because priorities are clear. Jack's right – it's just a flesh wound and they don't have time for a hospital. Curtailing her concern, Renee reluctantly turns back to the laptop.

"You contacted CTU, right?" Renee asks him, as she boots up the computer.

"No."

Renee stops short, turning back. "What? Why not?"

That should have been the first thing he did.

"We can't trust CTU right now," Jack says to her look. "Your cover was blown. We don't know who to trust."

"We need help. We can't do all of this on our own."

"I know," Jack replies. "I've already contacted Chloe."

Renee stares, shocked. "Chloe is in New York!"

"She can do her job from there easily enough," Jack argues. "Besides, I trust her. She'll be at the New York headquarters within twenty minutes, and we can run things through her."

Renee glances to her watch. "It's nearly three in the morning over there, Jack. People won't question what she's doing at work at this time of night?"

"Don't worry. Chloe can handle herself."

Renee pauses, and a part of her still wants to argue the point. She also doesn't like the idea that they're cutting off the Chicago HQ so easily.

"Janis can still find something," she tells Jack. "She can be an asset if we trust her."

"Look, we're not cutting Chicago CTU off completely. We're just running the more sensitive information through Chloe instead. We'll call up Lynn and Janis in a few minutes."

It's a compromise, so Renee nods. Without a word, she returns back to the laptop and spends the next few moments stewing in silence as she tries to access any relevant information. There are a few files that look promising, but they're all encrypted. Without more time, Renee won't break through any of it. She needs expert help, so she sends the files to Chloe through an email, marked urgent and classified.

She turns back to find Jack grimacing again. "Christ, Jack, don't tell me you're not hurt."

"I'm fine," he tells her stubbornly.

Renee sighs, then looks away. "I think I saw a first aid kit in the bathroom."

"You keep working. I'll get it—"

"You rest!" she orders. "_I'll_ get it."

Luck wins out, and she actually finds a suture kit in one of the cabinets. She once took an FBI course on emergency medical treatment; she knows how to stitch sutures and treat a variety of combat wounds. Renee swiftly returns with the kit in hand to find Jack removing his shirt. She long ago stopped paying attention to the plethora of scars along his chest and abdomen because the sight became so common to her in their day-to-day lives, but every once in a while, Renee finds her eyes attracted to the history written so painfully across his body. Bullet wounds, knife wounds, burns and indistinct scars – such a colorful narration of horrors.

Now here's another scar that'll mark this day.

Jack catches her wondering eye, and it looks like he's read her mind. "I'm getting too old for this bullshit, aren't I?"

She attempts a smile as she drops to a knee in front of him. "Retirement might not be out of the question."

She cleans up and sets about suturing the wound as quickly as she can, and a hush falls over them. Jack refuses take anything for the pain, including the bottle of Jack Daniels that rest in the wet bar across the room, so he grimaces and bites back groans while she threads the needle through his skin. Halfway through, Jack gets a call from Chloe.

"I'm at work," Chloe tells him, and Jack puts the phone on speaker. "And so is everyone else. Headquarters over here is up and running. Something's happened, Jack."

Renee and Jack trade looks. "In New York?"

"Across the states," Chloe counters. "The national threat level has been raised. I only just found out about it as I walked through the doors."

Renee can read the confusion on Jack's face so easily, because it mirrors her own. This is the first they're hearing about any of this. The theft of the SRX Virus has thus far remained a secret; the raising of the threat level is too public to be a response to that.

Jack shrugs his shirt back on. "What's going on, Chloe?"

"There's been a lot of development over the last few hours," Chloe says, and she sounds awkward, like she's about to spill some particularly horrifying news. "The President received an ultimatum from the terrorist group that has the SRX Virus."

"The Solntsevskaya Brotherhood?"

"No," Chloe replies. "They're an unknown group, calling themselves Black Brigade. The Solntsevskaya Brotherhood might be working _with_ them, but we don't have a lot of details. But it's been confirmed that the Black Brigade has current possession of the virus and are fully willing to release it into the general public unless the President conforms with their demands."

"What demands?"

"That's just it," Chloe says. "I don't know how to say this, so I'm just going to say it. One of the many demands includes the President releasing Tony from government custody. He'll be in Chicago within the hour."

There's dead silence for the next few seconds.

"Tony?" Renee repeats incredulous, in utter confusion. "As in Tony Almeida?" 

* * *

"What the hell kind of operation are you running?" Jack demands, when he gets Krysten Lynn on the phone. "Why weren't we told about the latest developments?"

Lynn sounds agitated. "I made a judgment call, and I don't answer to you, Bauer. You two are field operatives, and I'm in command here."

"We're working undercover here—"

"You _were_ working undercover," Lynn cuts in. "From what I understand, that's blown now."

"We needed this information!" Renee argues heatedly. "We had the aim of acquiring the virus. Don't you think the news that another group has claimed possession of it bears relevance to us?"

It's like talking to a brick wall, though. "I kept this information from you because I didn't want it distracting you," Lynn refutes, annoyingly arrogant. "Either of you. Given your respective histories with Tony Almeida, I didn't want it to interfere with your operation. Your goal was to infiltrate the Solntsevskaya Brotherhood. To do that, you didn't need to know any more than the information I gave you."

Jack looks livid enough to kill, and Renee just might help him. God, this has to be the height of irresponsibility. Lynn sent them in here blind and dumb, all so she could control them. The anger and indignation is choking, and Renee glances to Jack, realizing he was absolutely right to turn to Chloe. As much as Renee wants to rely on Janis, she can't. It'll expose them to Chicago HQ, and that place has its own agenda right now, one that doesn't align with Renee as long as Lynn is in charge.

"This in unacceptable," Jack warns. "You need to start sharing all information with us, whether or not you deem it relevant. I don't give a damn if you are in charge in Chicago. I will go over your head to the President of the United States if I have to."

After a stilted beat, Lynn continues in a carefully controlled voice. "President Taylor, I imagine, is a little busy right now."

"She'll take a call from me," Jack threatens with utter confidence.

"Calm down, Agent Bauer. Look, in any case, considering your operation is blown, we need to redistribute resources anyway. You and Agent Walker need to come in to CTU now."

"We'll be there," Jack barks, then hangs up the phone. "That…"

_Bitch_, Renee silently adds on. 

* * *

They take the back roads, and Jack drives with such a singular devotion to the task that Renee knows his mind is a million miles away. Tony Almeida, to her, is the man that killed Larry Moss and turned out to be a traitor to their nation. To Jack, Tony is something else entirely. During the last six months of their relationship, Renee and Jack have shared a lot. She's confided in him about all the dark secrets and thoughts that have haunted her in her worst moments. He's talked about his past, his family, his time in Africa – he's even confessed sins that he's never told anyone else. They've shared a lot.

The name of Tony Almeida has never come up – not once.

It's an unspoken rule between them.

So, they sit, stewing in silence as a chasm opens up between them. She can't believe Tony Almeida might be set free today. The idea of him being released so unceremoniously burns her with a seething anger. She wants to vent, but she's never brought Tony up out of respect to the memory of the man he once used to be for Jack. And Jack never brings Tony up out of much the same respect for Larry. All of this, she thinks, to avoid a topic that now stares them blankly in the face with the same intimidation as an oncoming train.

Chloe calls up when they're halfway to CTU. "I've decrypted the file you sent me, Renee. It's nothing useful to us. It's just your personnel file."

"What?" Renee asks, surprised.

"Your FBI file. Old aliases, your ops, your entire record with them."

Jack looks across at Renee. "That's how they knew. Someone sent them the information."

"Who?"

"I don't know," Chloe says. "But according to the data I've pulled, the file was uploaded to their laptop less than forty minutes ago."

"Send me the decrypted file," Renee tells Chloe. "I want to review what they saw. If there's anything missing, anything wrong – it might tell us something. And no one knows my file better than me."

"All right," Chloe said. "I'll send it to your phone."

Chloe hangs up, and a second later, Renee gets the file. As she's reviewing it on the small screen of her phone, silence descends yet again in the car. This time, though, at least they have an excuse other than one that's named Tony Almeida. She scrolls through page after page, reviewing _everything_ – her FBI training, her operations (classified or otherwise), the two years she worked undercover with the Russians, her accolades and accomplishments, and the ugly black mark of the torture incident with Alan Wilson that led to her termination. There's nothing missing.

Then something occurs to her.

Jack catches the look on her face. "What? What is it?"

Renee turns to him. "The leak is from the FBI, not CTU."

"What?"

"This is just my FBI file," she explains. "Only those with FBI clearance can access this. There's nothing about my recent assignment at CTU."

Jack listens quietly, before he adds, "Renee… this was targeted towards you. Whoever sent that information to Luka just wanted you, and didn't seem to give a damn about me. Someone wanted you dead and out of the way." She knows this, but it's sobering to hear aloud. Luka could and only did have one reaction to finding out the news. This all feels too personal. Who wants her dead so badly? "Can you think of anyone?" Jack probes.

"I…" Renee grasps at straws. "I don't know. I've acquired my share of enemies, just like any FBI agent."

"We're looking for a powerful enemy," Jack encourages. "Resources, moles, money – the works."

"I don't know, but whoever they are, they got their information from the FBI, not CTU." 

* * *

They arrive at CTU as the hour winds down, and Janis greets them in the main lobby. "Tony Almeida is scheduled to arrive here within fifteen minutes. The plane just landed on the airfield."

Jack nods. "Where's Lynn? I need to have a conversation with her."

Janis raises an eyebrow, but keeps any remarks to herself. "She's in her office upstairs."

Renee shares a look with Jack, who nods once before he disappears up the stairs. She almost wants to watch that confrontation, but she has other business to attend to. Renee turns back to Janis, and they begin walking side by side towards the Situation Room before Janis pulls her aside into a corner room. She closes the door behind her.

"About that _thing_ we were talking about earlier," Janis says pointedly, speaking of the search for the leak. "I haven't uncovered anything useful."

"Nothing?" Renee asks, disconcerted. "How about an hour ago? Anything unusual happen then? That was when Luka received information about me and nearly had me killed."

Janis shakes her head. "Nothing that I can see. Everybody here has been on task and there's been no unusual activity."

Renee stills, debating with herself. The leak is FBI, and so is Janis. It sickens her to think it, but after everything she's been through today, Renee can't rule out the possibility that Janis might be the leak she's looking for. It's been two years since they've been friends; she thinks of Jack and Tony, and Renee knows how quickly loyalties can turn.

"Thanks, Janis," she says soberly. "Just keep looking."

Janis nods. 

* * *

Renee meets back up with Jack in the Situation Room, and Kristen Lynn follows, looking flustered and attempting every bit to cover for it. She sends Janis off to retrieve the latest intelligence reports from Division, then approaches Renee.

"You and Agent Bauer can join the convoy that's going to deliver Almeida to his friends." Lynn says it like it's her charity or her decision alone that matters in this selection, but Renee knows Jack wasn't exactly asking for permission upstairs. "The place of the drop-off is twenty miles east of here. They wants us to deliver Almeida to the southeast corner of the financial district."

"Pull up a map," Jack says.

Renee recognizes the one other tech agent in the room. He's a young guy, no older than 25, with short-cropped hair and blue eyes, named Damon. He hits the command code and a moment later, a map appears on the big screen.

"How's the traffic cams?" Renee asks.

Damon answers, "We've got widespread surveillance of the streets. If they use a car, we should be able to use both traffic cams and a satellite feed to follow them wherever they take Almeida. We're also planning on putting a tracker on him."

Renee shakes her head, knowingly. "They'll find it in an instant. We have no choice but to follow them through a satellite feed."

Jack stares at the map, strategizing. "They'll anticipate that, too. Look at this place. It's surrounded by public transit circuits, including the subway and the cable car. The district should be relatively empty at this time of night, but there's a dozen ways out of this place that don't use topside roads. The Chicago River leads north to west of here. They've got plenty of exits and avenues."

Renee turns back to Lynn. "What do we know about the Black Brigade?"

"Not much," Lynn answers. "They worked a little in Europe, and later in South Asia. A few terrorist incidents here and there, but the biggest was a subway bombing in London twelve years ago where three people died. They're not exactly on the FBI's Most Wanted list."

"They are now," Renee mutters under her breath. "Well-funded?"

"Like orphans," Lynn replies. "Their gun-money was cut off post 9/11 and redirected to other terrorists group. As far as our intel goes, the Black Brigade largely died off years ago."

"Damn it," Jack says. "This doesn't make sense. How did these people get so ambitious? And what do they want with Tony?"

Lynn turns to face him. "The only person that can answer that is arriving here in five minutes." 

* * *

Tony Almeida is escorted into CTU with four separate armed guards, with chains and in an orange prison jumpsuit. For all the normal shackles of a perp walk, Tony looks as concerned as he would be strolling though a park. Renee stays back at first, perched on the edge of a computer console as she catches sight of him.

"Tony," Jack greets.

"Jack," Tony returns casually. "Why am I not surprised to see you here at CTU?"

"It looks like it's going to be another one of those days," Jack says to him. "Somebody must still like you out there, Tony. They've arranged a lot to get you released."

Tony doesn't say a thing in response.

"Put him in an interrogation room," Jack orders the guards. "I want to talk to him before we release him."

Tony stares with a stone cold look on his face, completely impassive. Not many men would manage that when faced with the prospect of being cornered into a room with Jack Bauer, and none of them would know Jack's capabilities better than Tony. The exchange is cold and aloof. Renee watches from a distance and she knows the history well, but it's hard to remember those fleeting moments two years ago in Washington D.C. when Jack and Tony had acted as anything other than enemies with each other. Renee doesn't remember seeing much of their camaraderie – only the betrayal. She supposes it's selective memory.

After the guards escort him out, Lynn steps up to add, "Bauer, I don't have to remind you that it's been made clear that he isn't to be harmed. The interrogation can only be verbal."

"You're right," Jack replies, without turning around to acknowledge her. "You don't have to remind me." 

* * *

For the first fifteen minutes of the interrogation, Tony doesn't say a single word. At one point Jack turns off the camera, but Renee is watching the entire thing unfold, and things threaten to go physical quickly, but it has yet to go there. She stands beside Lynn in the observation room, and both women are intently focused on the conversation happening on the other end of the double-sided mirror.

Despites Jack's efforts, Tony has barely even flinched. They've got nothing to threaten him with, and he doesn't have a single reason to give up the people that want him out so badly. The Black Brigade and Tony Almeida – what's the connection? Without physical duress, Renee knows he'll never break, and even then, she's got her doubts.

"Tell me what they want with you!" Jack demands. "Tell me, Tony, or I swear to god this time I'll be sure to end this day with a bullet in your head."

Tony lifts his gaze to Jack. "You don't have time to do this interrogation right, Jack. We've got to get moving soon if you're gonna be delivering me by the deadline they set up."

"Why does the Black Brigade want you free? Did you work for them? Who are they? What do they want?"

"Clock's ticking, Jack. We don't have time."

"He's right," Lynn says to Renee, sighing. "Pull Bauer out. We've got to leave soon if we're going to meet the deadline."

Renee doesn't move for a second, debating with herself about something before she uses the side-door to enter the interrogation room. Jack is on one side of the table, and on the other, sitting quietly, is Tony. He looks over at her when she enters, the same cold stare he's been giving everyone since arriving, and if he's surprised to see Renee here, he isn't showing it.

"It's time to leave," Renee announces, without once favoring Tony with any acknowledgement. She won't give the bastard two seconds of her time. "They're pulling up the cars now."

"Last chance," Jack says to Tony. "I know the man I once knew is still in there. Don't work alongside more terrorists, Tony. End this. You could save millions of lives."

For a beat, Tony stares and something passes over his face – something that Renee can't recognize because she doesn't know the man well enough. But it's an emotion, genuine or not, and that's the most reaction that Jack has gotten out of him.

"I don't know anything," Tony tells him.

"Don't lie to me!"

"I'm not."

Jack breaks, rushing towards Tony and slams him to the ground. Renee is feet away from them, and she can stop Jack if she wants to, but instead of that, Renee slams the side-door closed and halts the guards from entering by putting a block on the keypad. This needs to happen. They need the information.

She turns back to find Jack choking the life out of Tony. "Tell me what you know!"

"Bauer! Agent Bauer!" Lynn's voice comes over the radio. "Stop that right now! We have orders not to harm the prisoner! Agent Walker, restrain him!"

Renee just watches, though, as Tony's face turns red. "Tell me," Jack seethes with an angry bark, "what you know!"

"I know…" Tony gasps, "… nothing."

Perhaps a few seconds before Tony is about to pass out, Jack finally releases him. Tony sprawls on the floor, and Jack rises to whirl away, anger and frustration etched heavily on his face. There's a long stretch of silence that follows. Renee approaches from behind and she puts a hand on Jack, hoping the contact will calm him. They exchange a look, and then Jack nods, visibly getting his emotions back under check. Renee knows better, though. She can see this is eating him up inside, and for a moment, she wants to shield Jack from all of this because a man should only feel the sting of a betrayal like this so many times in his life. Jack has dealt with more than his fair share of it.

After a beat, Renee goes to check on Tony. She doesn't want to imagine the possible repercussions the Black Brigade is capable of, if any permanent damage has been done to Tony. Another part of Renee, though, doesn't give a damn. Tony flinches, pushing away from her searching hands with an annoyed grunt, and Renee decides he's well enough. He'll live.

Jack finally lets the guards through the door.

"What part—" Lynn demands, as soon as she's in the room, "—of not harming the prisoner did you not understand?"

"What?" Tony asks wryly, voice rough as he rises off the ground. He brushes off some imaginary lint and straightens. "Jack never touched me." 

* * *

There's a backroom where the tactical team is preparing their departure, and Renee grabs a Glock and a few extra magazines. Also in the room are two FBI agents and another three CTU field agents, and neither group seems to be mingling with the other. Renee and Jack stand in the center while Jack gives the orders, going over the plans of the hand-off in detail.

Renee recognizes only one familiar face among the crowd – Mathew Payne, a junior FBI agent from her old days that apparently rose a few levels in rank after Renee's leave. She remembers that he used to try and flirt with her like crazy.

"Agent Walker," Payne greets quietly, while Jack is talking. "It's nice to see you again."

Renee attempts a smile, pointing over to Jack. "We should really pay attention to this part."

Payne flushes a little, then redirects his attention back to Jack.

Two minutes before they're scheduled to leave, plans suddenly change. They get a call from Washington, and another demand has been added to the delivery. Lynn enters the backroom to tell them, and though she's still pissed as hell regarding Jack's stunt in the interrogation room, there's a look on Lynn's face that's almost apologetic.

"There's been a change in plans," Lynn informs everyone. "Agent Walker alone is to hand over Almeida at the site."

Jack says, "What? We've been setting up for a full dozen-man team to escort Tony."

"They made their demands clear," Lynn returns. "Agent Walker, and her alone. No one else can go with. The beta teams have to stay at least 10 miles off target at all times. We can still use the tracking devices and satellite feeds to follow—"

"We send her in alone and she's as good as dead," Jack cuts in with an angry bark – and oh, Renee knows this protective streak of his far too well. "We can't—"

"Why me?" Renee cuts in.

"They didn't say," Lynn answers somberly. "They were just adamant on your selection."

Renee pauses heavily, then pivots to face Jack with as collected a face as she can manage. "The Black Brigade is calling the shots on this one, Jack. You know that."

Jack's eyes darken, and Renee focuses more on him than on the gnawing epiphany dawning on her. Damn, this isn't good. As soon as she delivers Tony, she's as good as dead. She can't see any other reason for the demand, nor can she see a way out of this. Jack's face closes off, and he excuses them both from the room and then all but drags Renee out into the hallway by the forearm. She knows why he's so upset. It's obvious this is a set-up, a trap. Twice, now, within hours – someone wants her killed badly. Halfway down the hall, he pulls her into an empty room and slams the door shut behind them.

She's edged back against the wall, and Jack gets right in her face. "You know this only ends one way," he presses, voice urgent and dark. "Renee, you're not going."

She ignores the statement. "We have no choice, Jack. Millions of people's lives are at stake. I have to do this."

"No, you don't," Jack counters angrily. "If they want only one person to deliver Tony, I can just as easily—"

"They want _me_," Renee cuts in. "C'mon, Jack, you know what this is. You know _exactly_ what this is."

He slams a fist against the wall beside her, snarling, "So you're just going to march to your execution?"

It's intimidating when he gets like this, even if she knows he's not lashing out at her but the situation.

Silence falls, and she wants to him everything is going to be okay. She isn't that gifted a liar, though. She survived Luka, and now someone is taking extra measures to send her in with Tony. If she does the delivery alone, there are a thousand different ways it can go wrong – will go wrong. The task force was barely managing to cover their bases with a dozen men. Now it's just down to her.

"You'd do the same," she tells him, somberly. "I'm going, Jack. End of discussion."

His face loses some of that fight in him, and only horror replaces it. "Renee…"

She splays her hand against his chest, and the tension in his body is wound so tight that Renee can feel it from just one touch. This, she knows, is his worst nightmare. Torture, mutilation, killings – all of that, Jack handles with no regard to his own personal wellbeing. But those he cares about, those he loves – he's suffered so much loss over the years and it's given him a savior complex and an inferiority complex all rolled up into one. He keeps trying to save the ones he loves, and he keeps failing.

She struggles to give him something else to focus on. "Someone in this building tipped them off," Renee tells him. "No one else knows we escaped from Luka. That's why they changed the demands at the last second. Because they found out I'm still alive. Jack, the mole is here on this task force, in _this_ building. You have to find them."

There's a knock at the door. "Agent Walker?" a voice comes through the door. "I'm sorry, but time has run out. We need you to get moving. _Now._"

"I have to go," she tells Jack.

He nods, then slowly breaches the space between them to kiss her. He sinks his hands in her hair, cradling her face, and Renee loses focus on anything but him. Jack has a heady taste to him, overwhelming and warm, and though they don't have much time, a part of Renee just wants to linger in this embrace like they've got all the time in the world.

When she finally leaves the room, Jack trails after her. 

* * *

The car ride is silent.

Tony is cuffed, sitting quietly in the back as Renee drives the car through the largely empty streets of Chicago in the pre-dawn hours. The dark SUV glides through the financial district, and through her earpiece, Renee listens to the chatter of the beta team as they set up a trail ten miles back. Her gaze moves about, never resting on one spot for too long, from the streets, to the clock on the dashboard ticking down to their four a.m. deadline, to the rearview mirror that shows Tony slouched in the backseat.

"Why isn't Jack doing this?" Tony asks, breaking the silence.

She thinks about ignoring him, or lying to him, but she can't see the point. "Another demand by the Black Brigade."

"They wanted you, specifically? Why?"

She slants him a glance through the mirror. "You tell me. They're your friends."

Tony goes back to being silent, and after a while, Renee can't stand it anymore. She contacts Jack on the radio earpiece, and tells him that she's going to go offline for a few minutes. When he asks why, she hesitates for just one second.

"I need to talk to my sister," she tells him.

Jack instantly goes quiet on the other end, and then, "Understood. But, Renee… we don't have a lot of time."

She swallows heavily. "I know, Jack."

She slips the earpiece off and places it on the dashboard, and reaches for her cell. As she's scrolling through her contacts, she slants another glance at Tony, warning, "I realize I can't threaten you with much right now, but if you've got one bit of decency left in you at all, I'd appreciate it if you keep your mouth shut while I make this next phone call."

Tony doesn't answer; he just stares, aloof.

Sighing, she dials the number and then waits several long seconds for Zoey to answer. It's almost four in the morning, so Renee isn't remotely surprised that the phone rings more than a few times before a groggy voice comes on. "Renee? Jesus, what time it is?"

"Yeah, sorry, it's nearly four. This was the only chance I could get to contact you."

"You all right?" she murmurs, still half asleep. "You haven't been returning any of my phone calls all day."

"I got caught up at work."

Zoey snorts. "Tell me something I don't know. I figured you were too busy doing your G-woman thing."

"Yeah," Renee pauses. "Look, I'm sorry about running out on you earlier. I know I came down this weekend to visit you, and work pulled me away—"

"Don't worry about it," Zoey cuts in. "It's like I told your boyfriend, it's who you are. Kinda reminded me of old times. Hey, did Jack finally get in contact with you?"

"Yeah, we met up."

"Good. I hope his blood pressure came down. Just so you know, your new boyfriend may be hot, but he has some serious anger management issues. On the way back from the airport, he cussed out like four guys on the phone, all just 'cause they couldn't tell him where you were. The guy's… wound a little tight, if you ask me."

Renee takes a breath, trying to muster an amused response. "Yeah, well, I'll be sure and tell Jack that."

"Still hot, though," Zoey repeats, approving, though in her groggy stupor, she's probably only half aware of what she's saying. "So, am I going to see you later today or what?"

A sinking feeling of nausea settles in, and for a moment, Renee can't find her voice. She's done a lot in her life that she's regretted, but perhaps none more than her relationship with her sister. The last two years of her life are just riddled with missed opportunities.

"I wish I could say one way or another," Renee recovers eventually, "But I can't."

Zoey yawns. "All right. We'll play it by ear, then."

Tears gather in her eyes, and Renee blinks them back forcefully. "Yeah."

"Look, sis, I'd really love to chat right now but I'm about to fall asleep with the phone in my hands. I'll talk to you later, all right?"

"Zoey?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

The phone goes silent for a beat, and then Renee can hear the squeak of a protesting old mattress as Zoey shifts on her bed. "Everything all right?" Zoey asks, all of a sudden suspicious and concerned. "You sound weird."

Renee clears her throat. "Yeah, I'm, I just… I just wanted to… to apologize about earlier. I hope you know my job has never been more important than you, Zoey."

"Duly noted," Zoey says, bewildered. "You sure you're all right?"

Renee forces her tone lighter. "Yeah, I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

There's a long pause. "All right," Zoey says, warily. "Call me later?"

"Will do," Renee says. "G'night."

Renee hangs up the phone and drives on silently, needing a few moments to collect herself again. In the back, Tony is staring out the window. Renee eyes the earpiece on the dashboard, but she doesn't reach for it. Not immediately. She feels raw. She feels like she's torn up and bleeding inside, and Zoey's voice is still ringing in her ears. A thousand emotions war inside Renee, from grief to anger to confusion and fear. She chooses to flame the ambers of her anger because that's the only emotion that'll fuel her.

All this, just so she can deliver Tony Almeida to terrorists. The injustice of the situation slams into her, and Renee grows bold as her indignation builds.

"What kind of man," Renee begins, "throws himself in with thugs who'll kill millions and millions of innocent people?"

Tony shakes his head, gaze trained on the tinted windows. She doesn't know why he chooses that moment to break his silence, but when he answers, it's like the words have been building for some time now. "If you're expecting remorse from me, you're going to be disappointed. I did what I had to do. I always have." He pauses, looking over at her. "You're no different. Neither is Jack."

She sets her jaw into a hard line, incredulous. "I've never killed an innocent man."

"Give it time," Tony replies, evenly. "You'll get there. This job demands more than you can ever imagine. Just ask Jack."

"Jack has never done the things you have. He's done a lot, but he's never—"

"Never what?" Tony cuts in, barking a laugh. "Killed an innocent man? Agent Walker, exactly how long have been sleeping with Jack? Because judging by the looks I saw you two give each other in that interrogation room, I'd say it's been a while, maybe even a year? All that time, and you still don't know who he is. What he's capable of."

Anger builds in her shoulders. "I know _exactly_ who he is."

"No, no," Tony counters harshly. "You don't. Because Jack and I – we're exactly the same. We both do what we need to do to get the job done. If that means killing innocent men—"

"Like Larry Moss, you son of a bitch!" Renee seethes. "You killed an innocent man that day. More than one. He was my friend!"

Tony squares his jaw. "Larry Moss stood in my way. You ever stand in Jack's way, I imagine you'll see a side of him you won't like." He shakes his head, taking a steadying breath. "Ask Jack, sometime. Go ahead. Ask him about Ryan Chappelle. Or Paul Raines. Go ask him about those men, and then come back and tell me that he's never taken an innocent life. Jack and I – we do what we have to. If you don't see we're the same, then you're fooling yourself."

Renee doesn't need to ask Jack about those stories; she already knows. "He did those things with the ultimate goal of protecting the country. You killed for personal vengeance."

"And what? Jack's too _pure_ for that?" Tony counters, incredulous. "Nina Myers ring a bell?"

Renee goes silent, and she has a thousand things she wants to say but she doesn't say any of them. Nina Myers was a traitorous bitch who not only killed Teri Bauer, but posed a clear and present danger to the security of the United States. Renee honestly believes the world is better off without her. But saying that to a man who'd been hellbent on a quest to kill off Alan Wilson in order to avenge his murdered wife's death… that isn't going to win Renee any arguments.

"I almost feel sorry for you," Tony adds. "You've convinced yourself you love a good man, but you have no idea who Jack Bauer _really_ is. I've seen him at his worst, his darkest moments. And you don't know a man until you've seen him at his worst."

The condescending attitude is the last straw, and for a beat, Renee just sees red. A compulsion takes over her, and suddenly it's like she's not fully in control of herself anymore. The anger just takes rule. She slams the brakes on the car, halting the vehicle with a lurch. And then she's out the door and swinging around the tail end of the SUV to reach Tony's door.

When she pulls it open, he's staring at her with a disbelieving look on his face. "What the hell are you doing?"

Renee pulls her gun. "Get out of the car!" Tony just stares. "Get out of the damn car, Tony! Now!" With a curse under his breath, Tony gets out. "On the ground, hands behind your head!"

He complies, reluctantly. "C'mon, Agent Walker, I know this is a bluff. Even if you didn't need me, you're not the type to execute a man."

"You just got done feeding me a line about how I'm going to turn into you," Renee responds in a tightly controlled voice. "And I've got news for you, Tony. I'm not the straight-laced girl you knew two years ago. I've done plenty of shit, myself. And I will not hesitate to put a bullet in your knee if you don't tell me exactly what I want to know."

Tony shakes his head, almost laughing. Her cell phone goes off, and she knows it's Jack on the line. Renee's earpiece is still on the car dashboard. He's probably watching the satellite feed right now, seeing Renee with her gun drawn and Tony on his knees. She knows what this looks like, because the situation is exactly that fucked up.

"Congratulations, Tony," Renee says, darkly. "I'm proving you right. Unfortunately for you, you're the only way I'm going to get the information I _need_." She cocks the hammer on her gun, making sure the safety is off. "Tell me about the Black Brigade."

"What are you going to do?" Tony says. "You can't kill me."

"I never said anything about killing you."

"You can't torture me, either. The Black Brigade wants me unharmed—"

"I'm dead as soon as I hand you over, and we both know it. So from where I stand, I've got nothing to lose. You, on the other hand, could lose the ability to walk. Tell me about the Black Brigade!"

The cell phone continues to ring in the background, but Renee knows the Beta team is three minutes away, at best. Jack must be going out of his mind, though. And she needs to make it across another four blocks before the 4 am deadline or a lot of people could get killed.

"You're running out of time, Agent Walker," Tony says, defiantly, sensing her hesitation. "If I'm not at the southeast corner of the financial district within the next ten minutes, millions of people could die. I'm calling your bluff!"

Renee stares him down, finger on the trigger, her entire body tensed and ready to spring. She wants to – god, the son of a bitch deserves it. She's felt this type of compulsion before, this sense of mania. She cut off Ziya's thumb under this same impulse, and for a moment, it's like the last six months have back-slided and any progress she's made is sinking like quicksand under her feet.

The cell phone finally goes dead.

The silence stretches, and bit-by-bit Renee remembers herself again. She isn't that same suicidal woman anymore. She has a life now, a reason to live; she has someone to live it _with_, and she isn't going to sacrifice any of that. Not today.

Renee pulls back, and checks the safety. "You're a piece of work, Tony. Jack has done a lot of things in his life, but if given the choice, he always does his best to save people's lives. You? Maybe at one point you were a man like him. You lost your way, though. I feel sorry for you if you've convinced yourself otherwise."

She gestures for him to get up, but Tony doesn't budge. On his knees, legs covered in mud, he just holds her stare in an unflinching gaze. Something washes over his face, and Renee sees it, recognizes it this time – she's struck a nerve. Something she said got through to him.

"I don't know who the Black Brigade is," Tony tells her, suddenly. "I've never heard of them before today."

For a beat, she thinks he's lying but she can't figure out why he'd use this particular lie. "Why do they want you free, then?"

"I don't know," Tony answers, voice betraying emotion. "I swear to god, I don't know. I don't have any friends or allies, Agent Walker. Not anymore. Everybody that ever trusted me, that ever cared about me – I betrayed them. _All._ I have no friends left."

It occurs to her that he's right, that he really did isolate himself from the world. Jack, Bill, Chloe, even his friends and comrades in Emerson's cell – they all trusted Tony with their lives, and he betrayed them all in the end.

"So," Tony continues, almost mildly, "to answer your questions… someone wants me released because someone wants to kill me themselves. You're not the only one walking into certain death, Agent Walker. We both are." 

* * *

After she stows Tony back inside the car, she swings around the SUV again and climbs back into the driver's seat. Renee slips on the earpiece, and calls for CTU, and instantly, Jack is on the line and demanding to know what the hell is going on.

"He never worked for the Black Brigade, Jack," she says, instead of addressing other issues. "Tony says he's likely being released so someone can kill him."

Lynn's voice cuts in on the line, "That doesn't make any sense. Why would he cooperate with this operation if he thought the Black Brigade might want him dead?"

There's a long pause, and then Jack's voice comes on, knowingly. "Dead, alive, I don't think it matters much to Tony anymore."

Despite herself, Renee winces and glances at the rearview mirror to find Tony staring off into the distance, a rigid impassive mask resettling on his face. But she's seen through it, now. The self-doubt, the self-hatred. She knows exactly what Tony Almeida thinks of himself. Renee remembers what that feels like, to hate yourself so damn much that the choice between life or death hardly seems to make a difference. A part of her anger turns to a sharp and piercing pity, but Renee quickly squashes it.

He made his own bed. Now he can lie in it. She'll save her pity for people that never lied, cheated and killed to get what they wanted – all for a shot at killing one man. _Just one man_, his wife's murderer.

The epiphany strikes Renee like a hard slap across the face.

"Son of a bitch," she breathes under her breath. "I know who's behind this."

"What?" Jack says. "What are you talking about?"

"There's only one common enemy that Tony and I have," Renee answers. "One person that wants both of us dead for the things we did to him. Alan Wilson."

"Who?" Lynn asks, confused.

Renee scrubs a hand through her hair, but it's Jack that answers, quickly catching on. "Two years ago, the attacks on Washington D.C with the Starkwood pathogen. Damn it, it was Alan Wilson that was behind it all. Tony went after Wilson because he was the man that ordered the hit on Michelle Dessler. And Renee—"

"I tortured the man half to death," Renee cuts in, bluntly. "He got off scot-free; the court throw out our entire case against him because we had no solid leads besides what I got out of him, and everything that came from that was considered fruit of the poisonous tree. The judge let him go free, and I lost my job with the FBI."

Alan Wilson is the type of man to hold a grudge, and he's already proven once that he has the resources, money and the lack of moral compass to plan something like today. The pieces fit together like a jigsaw puzzle.

"It's Wilson," Renee affirms confidently, starting the car. "Get your people on this now."

"Got it," Lynn says. "This is good. This is at least a lead."

Renee glances at the clock, watching the minute tick over to 3:58 am. She has to get across four blocks within the next two minutes; she can double-time it. She puts the car into drive and slams the accelerator, tires screeching against the asphalt as they burn rubber.

"You really think it's Alan Wilson?" Tony says, and Renee trades a look with him through the mirror. "You think it's him controlling the Black Brigade?"

"You got a better idea?" Renee asks. "Besides, it might not matter to either of us now. I've still got to deliver you to them, or there's going to be killings."

"They're gonna kill _us_," Tony points out.

Silently, Renee's eyes return to the road and she can't help but agree. 

* * *

tbc...


End file.
